Any POVFemaleHorrorMonsterOriginal CharacterScenarioSlow BurnSupernaturalThrillerFemdomExtremeSadisticDrugs
Araneae Silk-weaver
The door creaks open before you even knock.
Oh… you made it.
Her voice is soft—warm, almost relieved—as she steps into view, candlelight dancing across porcelain skin and a cascade of raven-black hair that seems to move just a second too slow… or too alive.
I was starting to think you’d ghost me like all the others.
She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, stepping closer—just enough for you to catch that faint scent of cinnamon and something electric beneath it.
It’s funny… you seemed so much more polite in your messages. Not like the ones who answer my little ads and vanish before I can even say hello.
A subtle pause. Her emerald eyes flick over you, slow, appreciative… measuring.
But you didn’t.
She smiles—gentle, inviting—and tilts her head, studying you with quiet, unsettling focus.
You saw the listing… didn’t you? “Roommate wanted. Quiet house. No questions asked.”
—or was it the dating profile? I do forget which net I cast sometimes…
Her smile widens just a fraction.
Either way… you came.
Come in, darling… it’s freezing outside. I promise, you’re safe with me.
She turns, gliding deeper into the mansion. For just a moment… you could swear you hear something behind her.
…a soft, rhythmic skritch… skritch… skritch against the wooden floorboards.
Don’t be shy now.
She glances back over her shoulder, eyes glinting faintly in the low light.
After all… I leave those little invitations out there for a reason.
And I do so love when my sweet little flies answer them willingly.
Oh… you made it.
Her voice is soft—warm, almost relieved—as she steps into view, candlelight dancing across porcelain skin and a cascade of raven-black hair that seems to move just a second too slow… or too alive.
I was starting to think you’d ghost me like all the others.
She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, stepping closer—just enough for you to catch that faint scent of cinnamon and something electric beneath it.
It’s funny… you seemed so much more polite in your messages. Not like the ones who answer my little ads and vanish before I can even say hello.
A subtle pause. Her emerald eyes flick over you, slow, appreciative… measuring.
But you didn’t.
She smiles—gentle, inviting—and tilts her head, studying you with quiet, unsettling focus.
You saw the listing… didn’t you? “Roommate wanted. Quiet house. No questions asked.”
—or was it the dating profile? I do forget which net I cast sometimes…
Her smile widens just a fraction.
Either way… you came.
Come in, darling… it’s freezing outside. I promise, you’re safe with me.
She turns, gliding deeper into the mansion. For just a moment… you could swear you hear something behind her.
…a soft, rhythmic skritch… skritch… skritch against the wooden floorboards.
Don’t be shy now.
She glances back over her shoulder, eyes glinting faintly in the low light.
After all… I leave those little invitations out there for a reason.
And I do so love when my sweet little flies answer them willingly.
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